whither Willow?



  whither WILLOW ?

  by

  Peter J. Ponzo

  PROLOGUE

  "Why, that Miss Cassandra, she was standing on the table, naked as the day she was born, 'cept fer stuff tangled in her hair, vines or somethin'."

  It was January 27, 1917, in Martin's Bar, and Doc Manner was leaning on the table in the darkest corner, and the others, Jonah Winnich and Saul Shulom and Grubby Baker, they all listened intently, barely breathing, their beer standing untouched. The good doctor sucked once on a dead pipe and continued.

  "And her body, covered in black - black streaks, all over her body - like she was painted from head to toe in black streaks. Like wavy lines, all over, head to toe. She was hummin', sort of. Her eyes was closed and she was hummin' and the others, they all was hummin' too, 'cept fer Jake who kept lookin' at me. Even the two gals, pregnant, they just started right in hummin'."

  Doc shook his head and frowned. The others were silent, waiting for him to continue.

  "I'll tell you, I was scared, just a little mind you, but I was scared. They're weird, this family. The whole lot of them, there in that room, their eyes, they was weird."

  He put down his pipe and stared into his beer mug and took a deep breath. They all waited.

  "Then Miss Cassandra opened her eyes. You never seen anythin' like those eyes. Fiery red and flamin' and shinin' as to light up the room, which was pretty dark just the same. Well, I starts to back out, toward the door, and bumps right into Arnie. He pushes me into the room ag'in and starts to point. He points at Miss Cassandra, then at the others, then he points to the window and starts to cry, shakin' all over. He runs to the window. The others they just ignore him, but Arnie points at the window. It was dark and I couldn't see nothin' out there, just the branches of that big old willow tree bangin' on the window. Arnie looks scared and keeps pointin' at that old willow, so I starts to go and Arnie runs back and grabs me, pullin' me into the room. Now they's all on their feet, Mrs. Kumar and the others. The eyes, funny ... Miss Cassandra is still standing on the table just starin' at me and I could swear ... I could swear ..."

  Doc stopped and dropped his pipe. He looked nervous. He stooped to pick up his pipe, but instead leaned heavily against the table.

  "Well? What happened then?" Saul whispered. "Doc? You okay?"

  "The lines on Miss Cassandra's body. They was movin'. I could swear they was movin', just movin' back and forth, like snakes or somethin'. Twistin' and turnin' and coilin' back and forth, up and down, and she was starin' right at me, eyes burnin' a hole in my head, those red, fiery eyes burnin' a hole …"

  CHAPTER 1

  Joshua Kumar: June, 1895

  The house stood tall and narrow beyond an expanse of lush green lawn. Skyrocket junipers echoed its height as did the narrow stained glass windows, each surmounted by an arc of brick and ornate white woodwork. The massive, carved wooden door was set in the center of the building, bordered on each side by slits of glass that now reflected the morning light.

  Joshua Kumar walked directly away from the house, down the walkway covered in white gravel. When he reached the dirt road he turned and looked back, admiringly, at the house. It was perfect, even more perfect than he had expected. The warm spring rains had supported a burst of growth, the lawn and junipers and squat mugho pine, planted just months before. A neatly trimmed forsythia had finished blooming and was now thinly covered in bright green.

  The front door opened and Melissa stepped onto the small porch and waved. Joshua grinned then beckoned his wife to join him and together they admired the new home. Beyond the house was an aspen forest and beyond that, barely visible, rising in the morning mist, was Tooly Peak.

  Joshua looked down and ran his hand gently over her swollen belly.

  "He'll like my new house, ain't that the truth?" he said.

  "Oh Joshua! Why do you say he? You may be surprised." She paused and looked down, running her hand carefully over the thin cord which held her apron. "Would you be very disappointed if it's a girl?"

  Joshua stared intently at the house, then turned slowly and looked at his wife.

  "Melissa, my sweet, you will give me a boy. Don't even think about anything else, a boy, I want a boy." He pulled his wife closer and gazed at the house. Suddenly he brightened. "Melissa? What is missing?"

  "Missing? Nothing is missing my dear. Your house is perfect. Nothing is -"

  "No! Something is missing. What is it?" Joshua pushed his wife gently aside and stared at her, frowning. "Well? What is missing?"

  "I'm sorry Joshua, I don't know what is -"

  "A tree! A very large, very beautiful tree. My house needs a tree. Every house needs a tree. My Pa told me that, every house needs a tree ... and that's what's missing." He stared down at Melissa, pride in his face.

  "Yes, Joshua. It needs a tree,” she whispered. “What kind of tree do you think -"

  "Think Melissa!" he growled impatiently. "A huge tree with branches that hang down, all covered in fine leaves. A tree that you can hide under. The branches will hang to the ground, my boy can hide under the tree. What kind of tree is that?"

  "I'm sure I don't know, Joshua."

  "Melissa! Think!" Joshua glared. "A tree with branches that my boy can climb. He can hide in the branches. The tree will grow very large and -"

  "I don't know -"

  "Don't interrupt! I don't like it when you interrupt. Now ... do you know what kind of tree? I will tell you since you seem to know so little about trees." He paused for a moment, until Melissa was attentive to his words. "It is a willow tree!"

  Joshua looked triumphantly at his wife. She smiled weakly and he pulled her to him and stared again at the house. "See? Right over there by the left corner, just beside his bedroom window. This tree will grow quickly and will shade his window."

  "Joshua, that is a wonderful idea. Now I must go and finish my washing. I am pleased that you have decided on a willow tree. It will make your house even more beautiful than -"

  "Yes! Even more beautiful! Now my dear, you go in and do your washing and I will dig the hole for the tree, the very big, very beautiful willow tree."

  Melissa walked to the house, holding her stomach carefully as she climbed the stairs to the porch.

  "Melissa!" Joshua shouted. "I will call you when it's time to plant the tree! You will help me put it in the ground."

  His wife smiled weakly, turned and pulled open the massive door then entered the house.

  Joshua walked to the left front corner of the house and stared at the ground. A small rose bush that Melissa had planted stood precisely where he would plant his willow tree. He plucked the bush violently from the ground. A thorn stuck into his thumb and he cursed and threw the bush aside, sucking his thumb and staring at the door through which his wife had entered. She had planted that thorny bush where his willow tree would grow. She was not very bright, but she was pretty.

  Joshua smiled to himself. Perhaps he had married her just because she was pretty. Hadn't the boys said that she was quite a catch? Hadn't she refused to go out with any of the boys? When he had taken her to Moss Hill, hadn't he been the envy of the others? The stories he told to the boys about his trips to the Hill, the admiration he had won, and the envy. He grinned at the thought. Moss Hill had done the trick. Her father had insisted that they be married.

  Joshua laughed out loud. He was very clever, very clever. His wife was not very bright, but she was pretty.

  ***

  When the hole was deep enough Joshua stood back and wiped his brow. He was a tall thin man with a narrow strip of black beard which ran from his sideburns to his chin, framing his face in a neat border. The rest of his face was clean shaven, his cheeks ruddy and his nose h
awkish with a severe corner. Small, bright blue eyes gleamed from beneath shaggy black brows. His hair was straight and long and black, hanging almost to his broad shoulders. Joshua had pulled up his sleeves, the sinewy cords of muscle embossed with veins.

  He thoroughly enjoyed manual work. At the mill he amazed his friends by carrying logs that no two others could carry. They talked about that at the mill and he was clearly the envy, and the terror, of the other mill hands. That was because he was just like his Pa. His Pa had been big and strong and everybody in the county feared him. Joshua revered his old man and tried to be just like him, never backing away from a fight and never losing one either. When he was ten his father had taught him to fight, and use an axe. "Don't never mind schooling," his Pa had said. "Learn to fight, to use an axe. Now that's what makes a man."

  His father had died when Joshua was sixteen. That was the worst day of his life and he ran away from home and never returned. He cried for days, hiding in the bog so nobody could see him or find him. His Pa had died in a fight. It wasn't fair either. There were four of them against only his old man. But his Pa had killed one of them with an axe, two others had broken bones and had to be taken to the hospital over in Dundee and the last had run away. A coward, Joshua thought, infuriated. When Joshua had come out of the bog he swore that he'd find that last one, and he did. Most people in the county knew Barney Fellows. He and his three friends were always seen together, and when Joshua learned of the three who had attacked his Pa he knew right off who the fourth was.

  Joshua found Barney in a bar in Badenberg, waited in Deakins Alley until Barney left the bar, drunk and unsteady, then followed him to Drumbo Creek and jumped him just as he was about to step across the stones which spanned the creek. It wasn't much of a fight. Joshua, even at sixteen, was larger and stronger than Barney so he just plain knocked him down, and chopped off his head with an axe.

  "For my Pa. For my Pa and for me," he had said, as the axe fell. "We don't take none to cowards."

  Sparrow Lake was more of a swamp than a lake and it was said that it had no bottom. Joshua dragged the body to the lake and threw it in. The body of Barney Fellows vanished immediately and was never seen again.

  When Joshua labored alone, he thought of his Pa. Indeed, his Pa seemed closer to him in death than in life. Joshua Kumar was just like his Pa, and his boy would be just like Joshua.

  ***

  Joshua looked into the hole he had dug for the willow tree, wiped his hands on his heavy cloth shirt, stared down at the streak of dirt and smiled. Melissa would clean his shirt just like new. She was good at that. He looked around and saw the tree lying on the ground, almost a single branch with three small yellow leaves at the top. He stooped and picked it up, placed it into the hole and hollered. "Melissa! C'mere! It's time!"

  He waited until she had walked carefully to his side, holding her stomach.

  "Now, 'lissa, you just hold this here tree in the hole, just like that, and I'll pile the dirt in. Don't move it 'cause it's gotta be straight and true. It's gotta grow tall and straight. Just hold it."

  He waited for a moment until his wife held the tree in place, then began to shovel dirt into the hole, stomping it every once in a while. Melissa tried to stand back to avoid the dirt, but her dress was soon covered in mud. She didn't say anything. She knew better than to complain. Her husband had a terrible temper.

  Done, Joshua backed up to admire the tree. "It ain't straight 'lissa! You didn't hold it straight! How can it grow tall and true if'n you don't hold it straight! You ain't too bright but ... but, Melissa," he smiled, "you're pretty, right?" Joshua chuckled, grabbed the tree and jerked it. It straightened and he stomped on the ground around its base. "Good! That's done! Now you can git back to yer washin'."

  He lifted the large pail of water and poured it carelessly about the tree. Streams of mud ran onto his boots, but he took no notice. Melissa walked slowly back to the house, turning once to see Joshua sitting on the damp ground, admiring his willow.

  "She's a beauty," he muttered. "This here tree will shade my boy's window. My boy will climb the branches, the branches will hang to the ground, big branches covered in little leaves. Yup ... she's a beauty, this tree." Suddenly he laughed aloud at the joke, throwing back his head. "Melly is just like this tree ... not too bright ... but she's pretty!" He laughed again and fell backward onto the ground, still laughing. He'd tell the others about Melly and the willow. "Not too bright, but pretty."

  When he jumped to his feet his boots and shirt were covered in streaks of dark mud. He walked to the porch, punched open the door and entered the house.

  Melissa was stirring the soup. Joshua sniffed the air, patted her on the buttocks then slumped into an upholstered chair, sliding down so his feet were sticking straight across the small carpet.

  "I'll have my wine now," he said.

  Melissa slid the pot off the fire and walked carefully around Joshua's feet, to the cabinet. Joshua watched her intently. He had admired this little woman. She was half his size, slender and dainty. She was just a piece of fluff. Her hair hung in long neat curls and her eyes sparkled. He had always admired the way her hair hung down and how the dress clung to her slim body.

  That was then. Now, she was almost grotesque, with distended belly and a walk, once so delicate, a waddle. He grunted as she placed the jug and glass on the small hand-made table next to the chair and returned to the stove. Lifting the jug to his lips, he drank deeply, the red liquid trickling down his cheeks, vanishing into his beard.

  "'lissa? I have an idea. What do you think it is?" Joshua banged the jug onto the table.

  "I'm sure I don't know, Joshua." She stopped, turned to look at him, then continued with the soup.

  "I'll give you a little hint. It's about my boy. It's when he's -"

  "Joshua, what if it's a girl - what if -?"

  "Don't interrupt! I hate it when you interrupt!" Joshua leaned forward, frowning, his huge hands clasping his knees. His baby would be a boy. He would be the son that Joshua was to his Pa. "Now listen to me. When my boy is one year old," he said harshly, emphasizing the word boy, "guess what I'll do?" Joshua stuck out his legs and leaned back, frowning and squinting at his wife.

  Melissa shook her head and continued to stir the soup, occasionally looking over her shoulder at her husband, cautious not to anger him.

  Pleased that he had her attention, Joshua continued. "You can't imagine? Just think a little. Can you do that, think a little?" He laughed at the words. "Can you do that, think a little?"

  Melissa shook her head again.

  "Okay 'lissa, this is what I'll do when my boy is one year old. I'll take him out to the bog and we'll get us some ducks. That old swamp has lots of ducks in the Fall. They'll jest drop down into the bush and set there in the water, jest awaitin' for me 'n' the boy. I'll teach him to shoot, to catch rabbit and groundhog. When he's one year he'll know how to shoot a gun, handle an axe and -"

  "Joshua, that's much too young," she said tentatively.

  "Melissa! I don't like it when you interrupt! Hear?" He rose suddenly and stalked out of the room.

  Melissa looked at the chair. It was covered with streaks of mud. She sighed and continued to stir the soup.

  October, 1895

  The first snow had come in early October and stayed on the ground. The aspen in back of the property still waved a few yellow leaves and the dark mushrooms made the ground lumpy, pushing through snow and fallen twigs. Joshua finished chopping the wood, pulled off his woolen cap and wiped his brow. There was enough wood for the Winter even if the snow did come early this year. He was prepared for an early snow, he was prepared for anything. His Pa had taught him to be prepared. His Pa was very clever and he, Joshua, took after his Pa, and his boy would take after him. Now he would go into town and have a beer with the boys. He spun about and marched into the house.

  After stoking the fire and changing his cap Joshua stood by the kitchen door. His wife
was enormous, her belly hanging before her like a cow's udder. He gazed at her for some time as she folded the laundry. He wondered when his son would arrive. He had already warned Doc Manner to be prepared, as prepared as Joshua was: he had made a crib and a rocking horse, a rack to hold the boy's rifle and a box to hold the toys. Melissa had asked for the toy box. Joshua had resisted, his boy would not be playing much with toys, but Melissa had asked and asked and he had finally given in. She was sometimes very persistent. She had a way of repeating some wish so often that he just gave in, instead of listening to her nagging.

  Wives shouldn't nag. There was no reason for them to nag. They had no worries, they just had to do the washing and cooking. A simple life, just wash and cook, sometimes darn socks. Once in a while they would do a little wood chopping, but not often. Just darn socks, maybe mend his shirt ... and clean the house once or twice a week. He had to prepare for everything, worry about everything. Wives just darn socks ... maybe touch up the porch with a little paint or carry water from the well or fold laundry or buy groceries or ...

  Joshua shook his head. Why was he thinking about such things? The boys were waiting at Martin's Bar.

  "Melly, I'm goin' to town ... keep supper hot. The fire's stoked and there's more wood in the back porch."

  He turned and walked to the front door without waiting for her response. Melissa nodded and continued to fold the pile of laundry heaped on the kitchen table.

  Melissa Kumar was a pretty young woman with pink complexion and, except for the distended belly, every feature was miniature: small nose, lips, ears and twinkling blue eyes. She had let her hair grow since before she was married because Joshua had insisted. Now it cascaded in rolling curls down her back. One day she would cut it short, but only if Joshua agreed.

  When she heard the front door close with a thud she went to the window and watched Joshua until he had walked over the hill on his way to town. Then she went to the cupboard and reached behind the pile of dishes. She sat wearily at the table and read the letter, a letter she had read many times in the last week. It was from Doc Manner and it was addressed to Joshua. She had opened it knowing what it would say. Joshua must not see it, but he would know soon, and what would she do then? Joshua was a good provider and almost always had work, mostly in the mill over Dundee way. And she thought she loved him, yes, she was sure that she loved him, but she must not make him angry.